


From Ostwick to Skyhold, letters not sent

by chasindsackmead



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Circle of Magi, Epistolary, Gen, Ostwick Circle, reference to corporal punishment, reference to solitary confinement, trevelyan parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6287803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasindsackmead/pseuds/chasindsackmead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Trevelyan doesn't get on with his parents. His father knows why; his mother doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Ostwick to Skyhold, letters not sent

_From a letter to Leopold Trevelyan, written but never sent._

My dear, I almost fainted dead away when I heard the news. Can it be?

I hope it is true. I hope you have been chosen by Andraste -- I hope you feel the hand of the Maker on your shoulder. I have prayed for you every night since we quarrelled, and so has your father. We have always wanted what was best for you, even when that meant giving you up to the Circle. It is a terrible curse you and your fellow mages carry, and only the Circle could help you contain that curse without endangering yourself or others. We never wanted to abandon you -- we did our best to make sure you would be well cared for, even when we couldn’t be there ourselves. Was that so wrong?

Every time we saw you, you were more of a stranger. My heart ached to think that you -- my own son! -- were growing into a man I would not recognise. And yet there was no other way. Could we have hidden you from the templars, raised you in secret, found apostates or hedge-mages to teach you? Even if we could manage such a feat, it would go against everything we had ever learned. How could we defy the Chantry’s laws in such a way? We, who have always been faithful?

One hears stories of families who hid their mage children, kept their abilities secret. Those stories are always tragedies. They end in misery and slaughter. We did not want that for you.

In your last letter, you said you did not wish to hear any more from us. I hope that is no longer true. We ask for nothing, except that you let us know how you are. We are still your parents, despite everything. If we have wronged you, I hope you can forgive us.

And if Andraste did choose you, I hope She knows that we never stopped loving you.

From your loving mother,

Eleanor Trevelyan

_From a letter to Leopold Trevelyan, written but never sent:_

My boy,

I did you wrong, and I know it. Do not blame your mother for what happened. She did not write the letter, nor did she know what happened on foot of it. Even now, she does not know. When you wrote to us afterwards, I was too much of a coward to tell her. I will tell her after I send this letter. I have been carrying this secret for too long.

You must understand that the Trevelyans have been pillars of the Chantry for centuries. Ever since the first Trevelyan came south from Minrathous to found a new noble house, away from the influence of the Black Divine, we have poured all our faith and much of our wealth into keeping the Chantry strong. We have done this not out of greed or fear or a desire for advancement, but because we believed it was right. It was the will of the Maker that the Chant be spread across the world. It was the will of the Maker that mages be forced to serve, where once they had forced others into servitude. We Trevelyans have been templars, chanters, brothers and sisters of the Chantry; where we have been mages, we have been loyal and obedient.

There was nothing in our family history that prepared me for that letter. There was nothing in what I knew of your own life that prepared me for it, either. I could not understand it. I could not countenance it. I was completely sure that you had been somehow enthralled or corrupted. How could you -- our son, a Trevelyan through and through -- claim that there was no Maker, that the Chantry was a tool of oppression, that Andraste would have wanted the Circles destroyed? It could not be you writing. It must, surely, be a pretender, a demon in your skin. The thought horrified me, and yet once it came to me I was sure I had no choice. I had to tell the Knight-Commander my suspicions.

Does it make a difference that I begged him to find a way to save you, if he could?

He knew you better than I, and no doubt knew the signs of blood magic and possession better than I. He assured me that you were indeed yourself, and yet your heretical letter was a transgression, even if it came from your own thoughts and feelings. If we had still had you at home, and you had said such things to me, I cannot say I would not have punished you, and yet to whip you before an audience and then lock you away all alone for a month on short rations --! I had never heard of such a thing happening -- at least, not in the Ostwick Circle, or not for a long time, or not for such a small matter. I understand that events in Kirkwall had led the templars to approach all instances of rule-breaking as being of dire import, and the Knight-Commander told me he had found banned books among your possessions -- works of history and theology mostly, he said, nothing arcane, and so no doubt harmless, except insofar as they might promote heresy.

When I heard of the punishment inflicted on you, I found I could no longer care about heresy. You were indeed still my son, and I had wronged you. I had made you suffer. Was this the way to make you understand the Maker’s love? To bring you back under the protection of the Chantry?

The templars' rebellion, and the news of what happened after the Conclave, only confirmed what I had already come to understand: the Chantry has lost its way. It needs to be reformed. It has needed that reform for some time, and those of us more concerned with stamping out heresy than with sharing the love of Andraste have been the problem all along. It pains me to think that I discovered this too late for it to stop me from hurting you.

I know why you broke with us, and I do not blame you. To think of what you are doing now fills me with fear and pride at once -- pride, for you are becoming something better and greater than any of us could have imagined, and fear, for you put yourself in the path of danger again and again. 

I have wronged you, and I am sorry. If there is anything I can do to put things right, let me know and I will do it, gladly. The wealth and name of the Trevelyan family is yours, if you need it.

Despite everything, I remain your father,

Josef Trevelyan

**Author's Note:**

> A little writing exercise exploring some of the backstory for my current Inquisitor, Leopold Trevelyan. Leopold is an outspoken atheist who supports the mage rebellion -- it seemed logical that that would put him at odds with the canonically very religious Trevelyan family.


End file.
